


So, how do you deal with it?

by Romanumeternal



Series: Random stories from the People's Republic of Rome [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 14:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romanumeternal/pseuds/Romanumeternal
Summary: Three very different slaves have a conversation about life, love and acid mines.





	So, how do you deal with it?

 

"So...how do you get used to it?"

 

 

Marlia turned on the bed, and faced Olia, who was lounging in a chair, staring up at the ceiling. Her face creased, a faint frown of misery on her face. No one had talked for the last five minutes, save for Lukaminka's mindless prattle as she read the latest issue of _Loyalty_ ("ooh, we should try baking this...hey, did you know this? It says that some slaves actually have more cash than their owners...hmm, not sure about this, Marlia, what do you think about Flavia's idea for breaking bad news to your owner? I'm not sure...") which was easy enough to almost tune out, and where this question had come from she had no idea.

 

  
The dark skinned girl looked surprisingly downcast, which was odd, one hand picking at the threadbare arm of the chair she sat upon. Of course, Olia technically no longer had reason to stay in the slave's sparse living quarters with its half-collapsed chairs and rickety beds - Quintus' concubine had every reason to expect to spend every night in the luxury of the crippled man's room. Still, reckoned Marlia, maybe she liked the company of her fellow serviles - or just wanted to keep herself grounded, a more cynical side of her mind reasoned. After all, slaves fell as easily as they rose, especially those whose main source of status was simply sleeping with the right man, and someone as insightful as Olia would be sensible enough to recognise that. Slaves who fell down the hierarchy, in Marlia's experience, never had it easy, but those who had the sense to not lose touch with the others, not make the mistake of thinking themselves too superior, and to help out one's fellows on occasion tended to have slightly softer landings when they were demoted. 

"Get used to what?" Marlia asked, curiously. 

 

Olia smiled, a bleak grimace devoid of happiness.  

 

"You know what I mean, Marlia."

 

Marlia frowned. Olia, she'd learned, despite a covering of sardonic, somewhat cynical humour, was usually cheerful enough company and, in the privacy of the slave quarters, had a barbed sense of humour about most of the Free that Marlia wished she had the courage to possess - although, Marlia had noticed, never about Quintus. Miserable, elliptical moroseness was not, generally, her style. 

 

Tonight, though....

"No idea" said Marlia, shrugging bony shoulders. She shifted position slightly, making herself more comfortable, causing the metal bed to creak ominously, the old mattress to sag alarmingly. She tried a grin, which Olia failed to return.

Instead, the dark skinned woman simply continued staring miserably at the ceiling, her posture slumped. Marlia frowned. She thought Olia a fool sometimes, despite her undoubted intelligence in most other areas (how a slave could genuinely love a free man was utterly beyond her - sure, maybe vague affection was possible, like she sometimes felt with her domina, but love?) but she was, despite that, one of the few people she could honestly count as a friend.

 

"Olia, what's eating you?"

"Nothing, I guess."

Marlia flicked her eyes upwards.

"Well something is. You're asking me all these questions about...what?"

"That's right" chimed in a voice from beside Marlia. Lukaminka, five foot tall, busty, blonde and plump, sat up, the shift in weight causing the bed to  make more complaining noises. "You've been moping about all evening."

 

Marlia nodded encouragingly. Whenever Julia returned to the Callarius family home, dragging her maid back with her, she ended up sharing a narrow cot with Lukaminka. The two woman had, in reality, little in common - Lukaminka was bubbly, cheerfully ignorant and uninterested in the wider world, and would quite happily sleep with whoever she could. Still, in the close confines of the slave quarters, it was never a good idea for a slave - particularly a new slave - to be unfriendly when friendship was offered, and despite their differences, both women liked each other well enough.

Olia looked slightly indignant, which at least made a change from the gentle moroseness.

"No, I wasn't".

Luka nodded emphatically, blonde curls bouncing. She shuffled forward, until her bare flesh was touching Marlia's. Marlia suppressed a slight shiver. Of course, both of them slept naked, and in that narrow bed it was inevitable they'd touch - Hades more than once, to her embarrassment and Luka's smirking amusement,she'd woken up with Lukaminka's arms around her. She didn't mind that - she was used to it - although she had the impression that Lukaminka thought her a somewhat unsatisfactory bedmate for not indulging in any nocturnal activities besides sleeping  (although she'd sooner break her own arm than ask either Lukaminka or Olia about _that_ ). But, for some reason, whenever they touched outside of that - it was like being back in the Naked Venus again, getting felt up and groped by a customer.

"Come off it. You've been acting like you're getting sold to an acid mine."

Marlia raised her eyebrows.

"Acid mine?"

  
Lukaminka frowned. "Yes. You know" she adopted a slightly tired, superior tone; that of a woman who could not believe she had to explain this. "Where acid comes from."

"I don't think acid mines actually exist" said Marlia, suppressing a smile. "I don't think they mine acid". 

 

Olia rolled her eyes. "Acid mines do exist. But they don't mine acid there. Its something to do with suflides reacting with oxides, when the mine is "

 

Lukaminka interrupted.

"Stop changing the subject. We know you're smart, dear."

 

"Nothing's - wrong" said Olia, obviously lying. For a moment, Marlia was tempted to just agree and leave the conversation hanging, but it was pretty possible that Olia just wanted whatever was worrying her to be dragged out of her. Fair enough, Marlia decided. She'd play along. She frowned, trying to think of a way to subtly get at the truth-

 

 

"Everything okay with Quintus, then?" asked Lukaminka brightly, and Marlia winced. She should have known. 

 

 

"Yeah, I guess. He's out, going to some high-up conference. Back in three days, and of course I can't come along."

 

 

There was an unmistakable note of bitterness in that tone.

 

 

"Whyever not?" asked Marlia, though she should guess. 

 

 

Olia shrugged, and said in a too-casual voice. "Oh, there's no way I could afford to go, even if they let slaves go - which they don't. Besides, my dominus didn't think it'd be appropriate. And he's right, I guess. You can't drag your whore around with you to a conference, can you, when there's high born academics and industrialists and the like swanning around?"

 

Lukaminka frowned. "Quintus has a whore? But I thought-"

 

 

"Luka" said Marlia gently, seeing where Lukaminka's train of thought was leading "please shut up."

 

 

Lukaminka ignored her. "If he has a whore, then you just need to - I dunno - wear a skimpier dress. Or dye your hair, or-"

 

 

Olia looked at her levelly.

 

 

"That's what _I_ am. A whore, when all is said and done."

 

"Nah, a whore gets paid. We don't." Lukaminka continued, utterly ignoring Marlia's elbow jabs. "I mean, I guess you do get nicer stuff, so-"

 

"Luka!" hissed Marlia, and turned her attention to Olia. "For the love of Hades, Olia. You're...not a whore." She cracked a sour smile. "Believe me, I know."

 

 

Olia sniffed. 

 

"Yeah, you're right - I guess. Its just...fuck! I wish I was fucking free. Every time I'm with him, I know his friends are thinking I'm only with him cause I'm scared of a beating. I can't go with him anywhere public." She plucked at her slave tunic, despondently. "And - well. All the rest of it. What if he gets bored of me, or finds someone else? It'd be nice to just - sorry, I'm ranting." She cracked a sardonic smile. "It just gets to me, every now and then. Not often, but sometimes I just want to..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't know. Ask the Gods their reasoning for making me property."

"You do have it pretty good compared to most of us" said Marlia, unable to keep a slight edge out of her voice. "You don't have to be slumming it down here with us drones, do you? And I'm sure if you asked you could get some nice clothes or whatever else you wanted. Try getting any of that out of Julia."

 

"Thanks for the sympathy, Marlia."

 

 

Marlia bit her lip, regretting her outburst.  There was a silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say.

 

"You both have it pretty good, and I do too" said Lukaminka, desperate to break the awkward quiet. "We've enough to eat, warm, not beaten unless we truly fuck up - or Julia does, I guess" she continued, her right hand unconsciously rubbing the scars on her back from when she'd been punished for one of Julia's youthful misdeeds.  "Besides, - its hardly our place to want more, is it?"

 

 

"Please don't tell me you actually believe that" muttered Olia, eyes narrowing. "Sounds like the rubbish the Eyes print in _Loyalty_." 

 

 

"Some people were born to be slaves. Doesn't make us less...people-"

 

 

Marlia opened her mouth to say something, but obediently shut it in response to a headshake from Olia.

 

 

"-and just because we're owned and property doesn't make us worthless. But there's no point wishing for what you can't have. You were born into it, Marlia was probably born into it, and my mother screwed up and so I was made one. You might as well accept it and get what you can out of life, rather than moaning about God's plan, or wishing life was different"

 

"God or Gods?" smirked Marlia, slightly eager to change the subject away from one which was rapidly bordering on the treasonous. Not that anyone was listening - her senses were attuned enough to catch most eavesdroppers, eager to curry favour with their owners - but still, it was not a too-healthy conversation to be having. 

 

 

"Yeshua said - well I can't remember the exact words, but it was something like "Be obedient and thankful". I am" said Luka "and that's much better that moaning you're not a free girl."

 

 

"Was wondering when you'd bring up the nailed jew" muttered Olia, coldly, and then her tone changed as she saw the hurt expression on Lukaminka's face. "Hades, I didn't mean it like that."

 

 

Marlia glared at Olia, surprised and a little disappointed by Olia's tactlessness. Lukaminka was generally happy and accepting - when she was younger and had been whipped soundly for one of Julia's actions, she apparently held no grudge or complained thereafter. There was, Marlia reckoned, quite a lot to be said for that attitude. Besides, although Marlia shared Olia's (and Rome's general) contempt for the crucified carpenter, insulting Him in front of Lukaminka never felt right. If Luka genuinely believed that their was one, all knowing and all loving God, and that He loved her and had a plan for her, who was she to argue? It gave Luka happiness, at least, and it wasn't as if Marlia had a better suggestion.

 

 

"I know" said Lukaminka, her brightness vanishing in an instant. "I'm just an airheaded blonde with big tits who sleeps around and doesn't have any ambition and worships someone who got nailed to a tree for telling us all to be nice to each other for a change. Obviously, I'm far inferior to you two."

"Luka..." said Olia, pleadingly.

 

Lukaminka hung her head, the outburst seeming to have drained her somewhat. She shuffled shamefully.

 

 

"Sorry".

 

 

"Don't be - listening to me moan on about working in a bar and Olia's horrific ordeal of sleeping with a man who likes her must get a bit tedious." Marlia patted Lukaminka comfortingly on the shoulder. "And I guess if being accepting and trying to find happiness where you can works for you, then it works for you."

 

 

"That how you deal with it, then?" asked Olia, now that Lukaminka had laid herself against Marlia, obviously losing interest in the conversation.

"There isn't any alternative, is there? I won't pretend I never considered escape - but I'd never get that far. And of course I resent it all. But-" Marlia spread her arms wide. "What choice is there? Knuckle down. The strong will always rule, and they'll always be those on the bottom of the pile. Keep your expectations low and you might not be disappointed. 'Sides, knowing how bad it has been...sort of puts Julia's screeches when I forget to put the exact right amount of butter on her toast into context, I guess."

 

 

Olia nodded. "That's...fair, I guess. Not noble but fair."

 

 

"Why? How about you?"

 

 

"Dealing with the fact that I'm just a peice of property? Knowing that I can be sold and crippled at any moment? Not think about it." She yawned, and stretched. "Besides, Marlia - you did have it worse. And that helps."

 

 

Marlia's face assumed a puzzled expression as she tried to work out if that was a compliment or not.

 

 

"Glad it helped" she said, slightly sourly. In all honesty, out of the three of them, Marlia knew she'd been through the most. True, Luka's mother had been separated from Luka when Luka was only five, which had to have hurt, and Olia in chains had come to the People's Republic of Rome after a Roman pistol had ended the lives of her mother and father and sister, but aside from that, their lives had been stable. Marlia, on the other hand, had never had a family, never had anything remotely resembling a home to grow up in. Instead, just one slave of many, she'd gone from factories to warehouses to offices and, when a man first used her when she was thirteen or so, brothels and bars. 

How had she accepted it? Had she ever accepted it? She honestly didn't know. She'd raged, of course, and then tried to rationalise it, and when both those avenues had failed she had simply...resigned herself. Resigned herself miserably to the beatings and rapes and hunger and the thousand petty cruelties and humiliations that were part and parcel of her life. When she came down with the flu, which had rapidly intensified into pneumonia, two years ago, part of her had, wearily, if not welcomed death at least not fought too hard against it. After all, what was there to live for?

Olia, she guessed, had her ambition and more recently her love (if indeed, she actually did love Quintus - to Marlia, it was equally likely she was just playing Quintus like an angler playing a fish to get a better life for herself, and was a superbly good actor - and if that was the case, Marlia's admiration of her knew almost no limits) to keep her going. Lukaminka had her faith and, what was more, pure optimism to keep her going. But herself?

 

"So what would you do if you were free?" asked Olia.

 

"No idea." Marlia shrugged. "I mean...I can't even imagine it. Running my own life. Answerable just to yourself. Go travelling, perhaps. Get a job. But they say most of us can't really handle freedom. They say the suicide rate is sky high amongst the newly freed. Alcoholism, drug use..." Her mouth twisted. "Not that I believe the propaganda, I guess."

 

"If you're smart, and sensible, you'd be fine" said Olia, confidently.  She smiled, slightly. "That's what I think keeps me going, I think."

 

"What?"

 

"One day, my dominus will free me, and I'll be my own person. I guess thats how I deal with it. And you know what I'll do when I am free. I will earn some money, and then take Quintus out to dinner at an expensive restaurant - and I'll pay for every bite." Olia's face lit up at the thought.

 

 

Marlia chuckled on cue, wondering just how serious Olia was. _Buy_ a meal for the man who owned her and fucked her regularly? Ridiculous, she decided. Obviously, Olia was simply that good an actor - an actor who'd never stop playing her role. 


End file.
